More Than Our Captain
by RowanaSilverwind
Summary: He was always there when they needed him. Even when they didn't know they did. A father in everything but name. Entry for the June Fete des Mousquetaires challenge "Fathers" Now complete!
1. d'Artagnan

**More Than Our Captain**

By Rowana Silverwind

For the Fete des Mousquetaires contest for June: "Fathers"

 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I not own any of the characters of the Musketeers. But I do own any mistakes you might find! I haven't had a chance to find a beta reader yet.

 **Spoilers:** There will be spoilers for the entire series in this story, as well as specific spoilers for a few episodes. This first chapter contains spoilers for episode 1.

M.M.M.M

It didn't hit him at first.

The rush of adrenaline and threat of the oncoming dawn hadn't given d'Artagnan the time. They had rushed back to Paris, woken the King, gotten the release, and then straight to the Bastille. They had barely been in time to prevent all their efforts being for naught and the relief was clear between the three men d'Artagnan had only just met. He couldn't help feeling a little proud to have helped them, though chiefly he felt exhausted.

Practically against his will, he found himself sleeping most of that day in the garrison infirmary. He had tried to insist he was fine and go on his way, but Aramis had wisely pointed out that he had no where to go and his traitorous body had agreed.

It didn't even hit him later.

Once awake, he'd been invited out to a nearby tavern to celebrate Athos' freedom, though truthfully it seemed like Porthos and Aramis did most of the celebrating. He didn't recall much of that night, except that he had a feeling he'd drunk a bit more than he should. He had memories of losing at cards to Porthos and of Aramis storming back in shouting about a woman who'd left him. Then there had been more drinking and he'd woken up back at the garrison with the worst hangover he'd had in his life.

That morning he barely had time to think about his aching head as Aramis and Porthos, both far too cheerful considering last night, decided to test his skills with muskets and fists. Then Athos had pointed out that he would need somewhere to stay that wasn't the garrison infirmary since only commission Musketeers could have their own rooms.

He had somehow convinced Constance to put in a good word with her husband for lodging at the Bonacieux household. By then it was already well into the afternoon and he returned to the garrison to find his new friends had left for palace guard duty. With little else to occupy him, d'Artagnan had gone to the stable to check on his horse, since she was welcome to board at the garrison even when he was not.

That was when it hit him.

The smell of hay and straw and horses was so much like home. d'Artagnan could almost forget he was standing in the middle of Paris. He could imagine the fields of Gascony were just outside, getting ready for the spring planting. He ran his hands over Buttercup's back as the mare nickered softly in contentment. He remembered when his father had given her to him on his fifteenth birthday. He had been so proud, even if he had complained about the name. d'Artagnan couldn't think of changing the mare's name now. Not when his father had been the one to name her.

His father. d'Artagnan let out a shuddering shy and leaned his forehead against Buttercup's side. His father was dead. Dead in the mud at an unknown inn outside of Paris. He had barely spared the time to take the body to the nearby village church, trading his father's horse and most of the money he had for a decent burial. A burial for which he hadn't even stayed. He had left his father in that unnamed village, rather than take him home to his beloved Gascony to lie by his wife.

And for what? For revenge? To see the light go out of the murderer's eyes? d'Artagnan felt bile rise in his throat. How many men had he killed these past days? The first had been self defense. He had just reacted and it had been a damn lucky shot. He hadn't even made count of the number of men he'd cut down trying to reach Gaudet. How many of them had been sons or fathers? Had they really deserved death?

Footsteps broke d'Artagnan from his thoughts and he glanced up sharply. Captain Treville came to the entrance of Buttercup's stall to eye him critically. Instantly, d'Artagnan felt himself straighten, trying not to let his expression betray what he had been thinking. He had only spoken with the Captain once, when he had petitioned to become a Musketeer recruit. The interview had been fairly brief, since his efforts to save Athos and the recommendation of Aramis and Porthos had already afforded him a place in the regiment. d'Artagnan still wasn't sure what to make of the Captain, except that the man clearly had the respect of his men in more than just rank.

Treville regarded his newest recruit for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he turned to run a careful hand down Buttercup's neck. "She's a fine horse," he declared. "Sound and well cared for." Buttercup seemed to know she was being complimented and glanced back, hopeful for a treat. Treville produce a small apple from his pocket and obliged her.

d'Artagnan raised an eyebrow at his spoiled horse, before giving a small smile. "She is. Thank you, sir." He wasn't entirely sure what else he could say. He didn't have enough experience to know what Treville wanted or how he was supposed to act. It would certainly be a short career if he were kicked out on the second day for insulting his Captain.

Treville gave Buttercup a gentle pat before turning all his attention on the young Gascon. "How are you finding Paris?" he asked in a companionable tone.

"Fine, sir," d'Artagnan ventured. He was trying his best not to act nervous.

Treville raised an eyebrow at him. "Relax. Contrary to what certain members of this regiment may have told you, I am not in the habit of breaking new recruits."

d'Artagnan felt himself relax slightly with relief.

"At least not in the first week."

It was impossible to tell if the man was joking. d'Artagnan mouth opened a little, but he closed it quickly before he accidentally said something he might regret. He made a note to ask the others more about his new Captain when he got the chance. Being caught off guard like this was unnerving.

Treville's lips curled in the smallest of smiles before becoming serious again. "I am told you acquitted yourself well. As well as any of my Musketeers. Your father would be proud."

d'Artagnan felt himself straighten proudly at the praise. He sensed that Treville did not give out such compliments often. "Thank you, sir." Yet the pride did not quite reach his eyes and he found himself looking away sadly.

Treville frowned noticeably. "Something wrong?"

He didn't want to say anything. Didn't want the Captain to think he was ungrateful or unfit. Yet the weight of the past few days was heavy on his heart and he could not help but give an honest answer. "I'm not so sure my father would share your sentiments," he admitted, so quietly he almost wasn't sure he could be heard.

The older man was still, letting the silence sink between them. Then he placed a firm, comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Walk with me, d'Artagnan."

It was more a command than a request, though there was a softness to the Captain's tone. d'Artagnan found himself following automatically, lost in his own thoughts. Alexandre d'Artagnan had been a family man and a farmer before anything else. He had allowed his son to learn the sword only because it had been nearly impossible to keep the impetuous boy from practicing. Yet had always been clear that killing was not to be glorified or condoned. It might be a soldier's duty, but Alexandre had not wanted the burden of that life for his son.

Yet here he was. Charles d'Artagnan the soldier, or at least close enough to one. Already his sword was stained with blood. How could his father be proud of him now?

They reached the upstairs office before he had even realized that was where they were going. Treville nodded to a chair and then moved to a cabinet by the desk. d'Artagnan sat hesitantly, unsure what to expect. The office was neat, well used, and practical. Not at all the grand display of wealth and power one might expected from someone who often had the King's ear. Treville set two glasses on the desk, pouring red liquid into each before handing one to the boy. d'Artagnan sniffed it curiously and recognized the strong smell of brandy. He wrinkled his nose, but took a long sip and let the drink settle his nerves.

Treville watched him impassively before taking a sip of his own. "You came to Paris to avenge his death," he said at last. "You achieved that and saved the life of a good man. Are you saying those are not worthy accomplishments?"

d'Artagnan couldn't meet his eyes. He didn't regret what he'd done. Not when Athos was alive because of it. Yet he couldn't deny the pain in his heart. He looked down at his hands that still held the glass in his lap. The Captain must think he was such a child.

"I killed him."

"Gaudet?"

"Yes."

The silence dragged on and d'Artagnan clutched the glass tighter.

"Did you enjoy it?"

d'Artagnan looked up suddenly, meeting the Captain's eyes. Treville's face was calmly serious.

Thoughts raced through the boy's mind. He had wanted to kill Gaudet. To see the murderer's blood stain the ground just as his father's blood had. To have that pleasure wipe away the pain of his loss. He tried to tell himself that Gaudet deserved death. The man had killed in cold blood. He had blamed another for his crimes. He had even tried to attack his opponent from behind, an action without honor.

Yet d'Artagnan's memories could only see the look of surprise and pain on Gaudet's face. Could only feel the body sliding off the end of his sword. He had seen the light fade from the man's eyes and it had almost been too easy. Was life really that fragile?

"No," he said at last with finality in his voice. He didn't care if Treville thought he was weak or a coward. He had to be honest. "No, I did not enjoy it."

Treville set his glass down and met d'Artagnan's eyes squarely. "We are soldiers, d'Artagnan. When duty calls, we must fight in defense of our King, our country, and our brothers. Some of us may even enjoy the thrill of battle. But death should never be dealt lightly. Life is too precious for that."

The boy nodded solemnly, unable to meet the Captain's eyes. Perhaps he wasn't fit to be a soldier after all, much less a Musketeer.

Treville leaned forward and put a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, making the young man look at him. "That is why you will make a fine Musketeer," he said firmly. "And a man any father would be proud of."

d'Artagnan couldn't help feeling a little emotional as he fought to hold back tears. Maybe it was the way Treville spoke, but he could feel the truth in the words. He was right. He could be a soldier and still be his father's son. "Yes, sir," he answered thickly.

Treville smiled then and patted his shoulder fondly. Then he leaned back and drained his glass. "Now finish that and get your sword. You're wasting daylight."

d'Artagnan frowned in confusion, but drained his glass and stood. "Sir?"

Treville was collecting his own sword and raised an eyebrow. "I hope you don't think you can leave off training just because those three are enjoying the King's hospitality. I'm not just the Captain in name, you know."

d'Artagnan couldn't help a grin as he followed Treville down to the yard. He had a feeling he was about to be thoroughly whopped, but he would enjoy every minute of it.

" _He gave us a home. He gave us a family." - d'Artagnan, We are the Garrison_

M.M.M.M

 **Author's Note:** Thank you again for all the encouragement I got for my first story! It gave me the inspiration to keep writing! This is meant to be a series of four one shots, one for each of the musketeers. Unfortunately, I'm having some writer's block on two of them so I'm not sure if they'll be done before the end of the month. I still wanted to post this one though as I did enjoy writing it. I hope you enjoy and I will try to have another chapter up tomorrow! Reviews, suggestions, and critiques are welcome!


	2. Aramis

**More Than Our Captain** – Aramis

By Rowana Silverwind

 **Spoilers:** This story is a missing scene that takes place towards the end of "Trail and Punishment" in Season 2 and contains spoilers.

M.M.M.M

The fighting was over, but the hardest part was still to come.

The Palace had turned into organized chaos after the Musketeers' return and Rochefort's fall. Treville, still Captain in all but name, had sent for the rest of the Musketeer guard to clear the bodies, secure Vargas, and protect the royals. No one trusted any of the Red Guard to preform the tasks until they had been thoroughly investigated. The Queen's rescuers had been sent back to the garrison to see to their wounds, which were thankfully minor. Aramis had wanted to stay, to assure himself that Anne and the Dauphin were indeed safe, but to do so would only have encouraged suspicion. Too much truth had been included with the lies for them to risk it.

So they had returned with the Queen's more than heartfelt thanks and the King's invitation to return the next morning for a private audience. Louis had declared he desired time with his wife and son before he addressed them and no one was in any position to deny him. Truthfully they were all exhausted by recent events and soft beds and sleep were more than welcome.

For all but one.

Aramis lay awake long after his brothers had drifted to slumber. Though his body ached with all he'd been through, between prison and the rescue, his mind was too active for sleep. He was a mess of emotions and thoughts. He was overjoyed that those he considered as close as family were alive and safe. He was relieved that the traitor Rochefort was dead and his accusations and plots with him. He aught to be able to rest peacefully in the knowledge that tomorrow would be a brighter day.

Yet he could not. He was plagued by the choice now before him. He could not deny the promise he had made: to devote his life to God in return for the safety of his love and his son. It had been the promise of a desperate man, but he had meant every word. He would have given his own life for them and was still amazed that it hadn't come to that. It seemed God wasn't through with him after all. It seemed only fitting that he return the favor. Somehow he doubted Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan would see it that way.

Realizing it was nearly past midnight and he still hadn't slept, Aramis gave up. He rose and crossed to a small desk. It didn't take long to write what he intended and make his way to the garrison office. He moved with quiet grace, not wanting to wake any of the others. No need for them to have their restful sleep disturbed. He would tell them soon enough.

Apparently he wasn't the only one still awake though. There was a soft light in the office when he arrived. Tapping lightly on the door, he opened in slowly to see a familiar sight. Aramis couldn't help but smile. "I thought you weren't our Captain anymore," he said with a hint of humor.

Treville looked up from the desk where he'd been reading papers and snorted. "Someone has to keep this mess in order." He set aside a document and leaned back. "And I seem to recall you were ordered to rest."

"As were you," Aramis pointed out with a smirk.

Treville sighed and ran a hand down his face. The lines of weariness in his body were clear. Rochefort may be gone, but there was still Vargas and Spain to be dealt with. Rest for the Musketeers was always short lived.

"Somehow I doubt you came here to tuck me in," Treville pointed out, eyeing him suspiciously. "What is it?"

Aramis shrugged and gave a disarming smile. He came forward and handed Treville the paper in his hand, trying to ignore small shake of his hand as he did so. The former Captain took it, clearly seeing the hesitation. Then he unfolded it and read, his face still and unreadable. Aramis could feel his breath still in his throat. He was sure the man had had time to read it at least three times now.

Finally Treville looked up. "Why are you giving his to me?" he asked simply. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, a trait that Aramis had always found a bit unnerving. To think that Treville didn't believe he would be good at politics. With a look like that, he could stand with the best of them.

"Because you're my Captain," Aramis admitted firmly.

"I _was_ your Captain." Treville shook his head at the repeated argument. "The King might appoint someone else."

"But you would still be my Captain." Aramis' tone was calm and perfectly serious. It didn't matter what the King or anyone else said. Treville would always be their Captain.

Treville nodded slowly in acceptance. He glanced down at the paper again. "This is sudden. How much time did you take to think about this?"

"Enough."

The look in Treville's eyes was skeptical. He folded the paper slowly. "This is not necessary."

"It is for me." Aramis squared his shoulders with determination, but his eyes betrayed the doubt in his heart. He knew he had to do this. He had never been more sure of something in his life. That didn't mean it wasn't one of the hardest choices he had ever made.

Treville met his eyes for a long moment. "The King has no cause to suspect you," he reminded quietly. "You don't have to do this."

Aramis shook his head, his look one of resigned resolution. "Yes, I do," he declared.

"If this is some way to punish yourself..."

"It's not."

Treville sighed, leaning forward on the desk. "Aramis. No one wants you to give up your commission. Not even the King. "

"You think this is for his benefit?" He knew his words were close to treason, but he was beyond caring. He had already leapt over that line with both feet. He was starting to become irritated with Treville's insistence on questioning his decision. He had thought the Captain of all people would see the wisdom in this. Experience had already shown he could not be trusted around the palace. It was better that he was as far away as possible, fulfilling his pledge to God as he intended.

"This is my decision. I didn't come here for a debate." He turned to leave the room as his temper mounted.

Treville stood, eyes flashing. "I never took you for one to hide from your problems," he accused.

Aramis froze half way to the door. He whirled around, jabbing a finger at Treville. "You think I'm a coward who can't face the truth? That I would run away rather than face it? I was willing to die for that sin! But I almost..." He lowered his voice and clenched his fists, unable to meet his Captain's eyes. "I almost let the rest of you die for it. Anne. Constance. And Marguerite..." He closed his eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

Treville took the younger man's arm. "No one blames you for any of that," he reminded with firm conviction. He pulled Aramis over to a chair. "Sit," he ordered.

Aramis sat automatically. He leaned with his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. He wished he could believe those words were true. Even if his comrades and his Captain no longer blamed him, he stilled blamed himself. His actions had started it all and his recklessness had let it come to light. And Marguerite... He had used her. Taken advantage of her love and affection just to get close to his son. She hadn't deserved the shame and death he had brought upon her.

Something with a sharp smell appeared in front of his nose.

"Drink," Treville advised. He leaned back against the desk, taking a sip of his own glass.

Aramis sat up, staring at the glass for a moment. Then he downed it all in one go. It was probably an affront to good wine, but he didn't care. It felt good to indulge just for a moment. Treville refilled his glass and he sipped this one slower, lost in thought.

After a long, contemplative silence, Treville finally spoke up. "Where will you go?"

Aramis ran a hand through his hair again. "Douai. To the monastery."

Treville raised an eyebrow. "So you'll become a monk," he asked slowly, sounding a little amused.

"The irony is not lost on me either," Aramis admitted, with a small smile. He sighed, setting the wine glass back on the desk. "I'm not running away," he explained, meeting Treville's eyes squarely, hoping to convey his conviction. "This is something I need to do. Alone."

Treville nodded slowly. "Alright. I believe you." He set aside his glass as well and straightened. "Take time, but know that so long as I have a say, you will always have a place here. Should you choose to return."

Aramis nodded. He swallowed thickly, unable to form the words of gratitude that were on his heart. He wasn't sure he would ever return, but it meant a great deal to know he had a home here. Maybe fate would lead him back to it one day.

"Now. Have you told the others?"

Looking truly sad, Aramis shook his head. "Not yet. They would only stop me." He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. He could only imagine what they would say. Porthos would probably even tie him down to keep him from leaving.

"Just promise me you will tell them," Treville requested with a note of sympathy.

Aramis smirked. "Afraid I'll sneak out the window in the middle of the night?" he asked lightly. Truthfully he had almost been tempted to sneak off without a word, but he couldn't do that to his brothers. They would never forgive him. He wasn't sure they would forgive him as it was.

Treville raised an eyebrow and sat back at his desk. "Just get out of my office," he suggested to hide his amusement.

"I thought it wasn't your office?" Aramis's eyes twinkled, unable to resist the perk reply.

Treville raised his eyes heavenward, but Aramis was gone when he looked back. He shook his head at the young man's cheek and glanced again at the folded piece of paper. Sighing, he took it and carefully set it in the back of one of his locked drawers. As far as he was concerned, Aramis was still a Musketeer. He just needed time to sort himself out. Until then, he would hold onto the letter so he would always have a home.

" _It was Treville who always believed in us." - Aramis, We are the Garrison_

M.M.M.M

 **Author's Note:** Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! This was another scene that I really wanted to write though it was a bit trickier to put down. It occurred to me that we never see these two talk about his leaving and Aramis is recommissioned rather easily later, so that's where some of the inspiration for this came from. As always reviews, suggestions, and critiques are welcome!

A little note I forgot to add to the first chapter was that I got the name of d'Artagnan's horse from a number of other fics on this site. It seemed appropriate, so I went with it.

It may be a bit longer wait for the next chapter as I haven't finished writing it yet. Who it is depends largely on who I finish first!


	3. Porthos

**More Than Our Captain** – Porthos

By Rowana Silverwind

 **Spoilers:** This story is an episode tag to "Prodigal Father" in Season 2 and contains spoilers.

M.M.M.M

Porthos was quiet on the ride back to Paris, but the other Musketeers seemed to understand he needed the space. While he had smiled and joked with them in the end, it had been a trying few days. He was still battling the mess of emotions that had come with meeting his father for the first time. Not to mention finding out what a lying bastard the man was. It did little to help his mood. He wasn't sure what was worse: that he shared blood with the man, or that he had nearly been taken in by the lies. He reached up and tugged at the straps of his pauldron just to make sure it was still there. Hard to believe he had nearly given up everything he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Porthos wasn't the only one being quiet. Treville trailed behind the four friends, his face a mask of stoic calm as he watched the road. Porthos glanced back at him a few times with a frown. Finally he nodded to Aramis to keep going and slowed his horse to join their former Captain. Understanding they needed privacy, the other three moved on ahead at a lively trot, but still within sight.

Porthos matched the pace of Treville's mount and the pair rode in silence for several minutes, neither apparently willing to break the silence first. Finally Porthos asked one of the questions that had been troubling him. "Why didn't you tell me the truth from the start?" he asked, with a touch of accusation.

Treville regarded him carefully. "You needed to find it for yourself."

"Even if it meant leaving the Musketeers?"

"Yes. Even then."

Porthos mulled over that idea for a moment. It would have avoided a lot of misunderstanding and blame if he'd just heard the full story from the start. Then again, he couldn't say for sure if he would have believed it without speaking to Belgard himself. Until now, he had believed in Treville almost without question, but the man was only human. The Captain had kept this secret from him. It was a little harder to trust so completely knowing that.

"I want to hear the whole story," Porthos declared, crossing his arms over his saddle. "From the beginning."

Treville looked surprise, but the determined glare on Porthos's face warned him not to deny the request. He nodded slowly. "de Foix, Belgard, and I were soldiers together. We were young, reckless, and foolish. Not unlike some other young men I know." He gave a small smile as Porthos snorted at the implication. "Belgard even saved my life once. When he left to return to his father's estate, the three of us swore a blood oath to come to each other's aid, whatever the need."

Treville paused for a long moment, lost in his memories, while Porthos waited patiently. Treville rarely spoke of his past. He was normally calm and calculating and kept his life very private. It was hard to imagine him as a reckless or foolish. Then again, he also seemed to be a man who had learned from many, sometimes painful, mistakes.

"I didn't see Belgard again for some time. Not until he asked us to make good on that oath," he continued, with a sigh. "He was...changed. He spoke of losing his father's inheritance and demanded we take you and your mother away immediately. I refused at first. I couldn't believe the man I believed to be my friend would ask me to do such a dishonorable thing. Then he threatened to kill you both unless we did as he asked. So we agreed."

Treville swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "de Foix and I kidnapped you in the dead of night. We left you on the edge of the Court of Miracles."

Porthos narrowed his eyes with a flash of anger. "Why there?" he questioned. "Of all places, why that den of thieves?"

Treville met his eyes with a touch of deep regret. "de Foix and I were soldiers. We had no households where your mother could stay. We thought it was the best way to keep Belgard from ever finding you and making good on his threat. But I regretted the decision. I returned the next day. I intended to find your mother and give her a place her at one of the estates outside of Paris. But she was gone and the Court would not let me pass."

Porthos nodded slowly, turning away with a grim look. He knew how protective the Court was of its territory. Even so, it angered him that his mother had been so callously tossed aside simply for being inconvenient. She deserved better than to die in that slum. That Treville had eventually tried to help seemed like too little, too late.

"I can not ask you to forgive me," Treville murmured quietly, but sincerely. "But know that I am deeply sorry for what I did. It has been a stain on my heart I can never repay."

"What's done is done," Porthos grunted in a husky tone.

He couldn't meet the older man's eyes. Part of him didn't want to forgive him. Wanted to hold onto the hate that burned inside for what had been done to himself and especially his mother. Yet he couldn't bring himself to truly hate Treville. The Captain had always had faith in him, despite what others said about his background. Which only reminded him of another painful thought.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked suddenly, turning to regard Treville with sharp eyes. "That you made me a Musketeer because I deserved it?" His eyes searched his Captain's for the truth he desperately wanted to hear.

Treville met his eyes squarely and sat proudly in the saddle. "Every word," he said fiercely. "No one has ever deserved it more. I never would have found you if you hadn't set yourself apart from the rest. I knew you would make a fine Musketeer before I even knew who you were and when I did...I could not have been more proud."

Porthos ducked his head to hide a pleased smile. He touched his pauldron fondly, feeling great pride at the words. Of course Athos and Aramis had always said as much, but it meant more coming from the man who would always be his Captain. He knew the past few days had created a rift between them. The truth would always be a burden they would both bear, but it lightened his heart to know he didn't have to bear it alone.

That just left one question he longed to ask, but was almost afraid of the answer. "My mother." He paused in an effort to find the right words. His memories of her were flashes of a beautiful woman who worked hard to raise him, despite the cost to herself. Yet how much of that had been truth and how much simply the wistful imaginings of a child? "What was she liked?"

Treville genuinely smiled at that. "She was a brave woman. Strong, determined, and much smarter than anyone realized. She had already guessed why we came that night and was ready to fight both of us to defend you. I only had the honor of meeting her once, but I can see you are very much like her. She taught you well."

Porthos turned away to hide the wetness in his eyes. "That she did," he agreed.

It was a pity he couldn't say the same about his father. He clenched his fist on his reigns. It pained him to think he shared blood with that man. His mother had refused to speak of his father whenever he asked and now he knew why. Maybe he had always guessed the truth would be painful, but as a child he had allowed himself to entertain ideas of his father being a great man. Maybe he had been a soldier who died valiantly on the battlefield or an adventurous sailor lost at sea trying to reach the New World. They had been childhood dreams and he knew it, but it didn't make the truth any harder to stomach.

Treville regarded him seriously, guessing the reason for his anger. "You can't choose your blood, Porthos," he admitted. "But it doesn't define who you are. You define who you are."

Porthos clenched his fist tighter and looked up at the sky. "Yeah," he agreed softly. He turned to Treville and gave a tight nod and a small grin. "I'm a Musketeer."

Treville actually smiled back, looking relieved and proud. "Well said." He glanced ahead, more relaxed as though a great burden had been lifted. "Then may I suggest we catch our fellow Musketeers before they get into trouble." He clicked his horse into a trot down the road where the other three had disappeared around a bend in the road.

Porthos shook his head in amusement and urged his own mount to follow. Belgard might be related by blood, but he would never be family. Porthos was sure of that now. He had a family. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was his. It was time he got back to it. It was time to go home. Besides, he already had a father.

" _He was a father to all of us." - Porthos, We are the Garrison_

M.M.M.M

 **Author's Note:** This one took me a bit longer to work out, but I really wanted to do something for these two for this episode. Special thanks to "Oldenuff2knowbetter" for the awesome suggestion to ask about Porthos's mom! I hope you enjoyed this one even though it was a bit shorter. As always reviews, suggestions, and critiques are welcome! Last chapter should be up late tomorrow!


	4. Athos

**More Than Our Captain** – Athos

By Rowana Silverwind

 **Spoilers:** This story is a tag to the episode "Commodities" in Season 1 and contains spoilers.

M.M.M.M

Treville looked up at the four men who stood before him. They each stood calmly at attention, the picture of proper soldiers returning to report to their captain. Which for these four clearly meant they were hiding something.

"I trust you saw Bonnaire safely back to Le Havre?" he asked patiently.

Athos took the lead as always, nodding slightly. "Of course."

Treville leaned forward on his desk and selected a paper missive and waved it at them. "So you know nothing of this report I received from his ship stating that he never arrived?" he continued. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at each of them.

They each put on a display of shock and surprise that might have been convincing to anyone else. d'Artagnan clearly still needed some practice as his widened eyes barely hid the amused twinkle behind them. Aramis doffed his hat and shook his head in sympathy. Prothos just growled, making it hard to tell if he was upset their charge was missing or upset he hadn't been the cause.

Athos barely even blinked at the accusation. He just raised one eyebrow. "That is a surprise. He was enjoying the hospitality of the harbor when we left him."

"Perhaps he did a bit too much celebrating?" Aramis suggested hopefully.

"Or ended up on the wrong end of a fist," Porthos added, in a tone that suggested he wouldn't have minded that option.

"Or maybe he just got...lost?" d'Artagnan chimed in, wincing slightly at how lame that sounded.

Treville raised his eyebrows at the four of them and let the awkward silence drag. "Such a shame your duties called you back to Paris before you could see him safely aboard his ship," he answered in a tone that betrayed that he didn't believe them in the slightest. "The Cardinal will be most disappointed."

"Oh, well you know how much we hate to disappointed his Eminence," Aramis replied, making a show of looking truly remorseful that no one believed for a moment.

Treville glared at them. "Dismissed!" he barked sharply.

Aramis grinned and gave a neat bow before turning to leave. Porthos was on his heels, hurrying him out the door before he could say something cheeky. d'Artagnan looked distinctly relieved to have escaped scrutiny, while Athos just nodded shortly.

"A moment, Athos," Treville added suddenly, halting their retreat.

All four turned turned to regard their Captain for a moment, trying to decide if the were in trouble after all. Athos gave the other three a meaningful look. Porthos and Aramis caught on at once, tugging a reluctant d'Artagnan outside and closing the door behind them.

Athos regarded Treville evenly over the desk. His calm stance perfectly disguised the turmoil he was feeling inside. The incident with Bonnaire was nothing to distress him. It was what else had happened on the road from Le Hevre that had him longing to return to his room and drink until his memories were lost. He still wasn't sure if what he'd seen was reality or a nightmare, though d'Artagnan's presence seemed to confirm it was painfully real. How did one adjust when long believed truths were shattered?

Treville's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Athos raised a curious eyebrow. "You already seem well informed."

"Not Bonnaire," Treville shook his head. "The less I hear about him the better. I want to hear what happened on the road from Le Hevre."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Athos replied dismissively.

"I doubt that," Treville scoffed. He eyed the younger man critically.

Athos shrugged, but inwardly he was shaking. He did not like where this conversation was going. "Porthos was injured. We had to stop to treat his wound. Then we dealt with the Spanish spies and delivered Bonnaire to the Cardinal. It was just as we reported."

Treville raised an eyebrow. "Which does not explain why Porthos and Aramis arrived in Paris with Bonnaire, alone. Then you and d'Artagnan returned nearly half a day later, looking like you rode through a forest fire. Care to explain that? Or should I fetch d'Artagnan and see what he has to say about it?"

Athos glared at his Captain, seething inside. He did not approve of dragging d'Artagnan into this conversation. He knew the boy would keep his promise to say nothing. Yet he also knew it would tear at the boy's heart to have to lie to the Captain. Treville knew that Athos wouldn't let that happened, damn him. The man was forcing his hand.

"We stopped at la Fere," he stated icily.

Treville's face darkened and he leaned back slowly. "How was it?" he asked carefully.

"It's gone," Athos replied dismissively. He turned away, though his eyes weren't really seeing the room around him. He had long given up any attachment to his old chateau. In some ways he was glad it was gone. If only all memories could be erased so easily.

Treville raised a critical eyebrow at the implication. "Was that necessary?"

"Not my idea."

Treville frowned deeply, regarding the younger man with a suspicious look. "I'm sure it wasn't d'Artagnan's. What aren't you telling me?"

"It's not important."

Athos turned to leave. He was finished with this conversation. It was bad enough he had already burdened d'Artagnan with this secret. His Captain already knew something of his past and that was more than enough. He could deal with this on his own. It was best for everyone.

"Athos." Treville rose from his chair and came towards him purposely. He blocked the door and crossed his arms, meeting the younger man's furious glare evenly. "Tell me what happened."

Athos stepped back his eyes flashing with anger and pain. For a moment he considered just pushing past him and running straight to the nearest bottle. It did not concern the Musketeers so it was none of the Captain's business. What right did the man have to push him like this? Athos growled and turned away to stalk to the window. He gazed out for a long moment.

"It was her," he said at last. It was barely above a whisper.

"You're certain?" Treville asked in disbelief. He didn't have to ask who she was. The both already knew.

Athos nodded shortly, turning to meet Treville's eyes. His throat clenched painfully. Saying it made it all so much more real. "d'Artagnan saw her," he confirmed.

"My God," Treville murmured. He leaned back against the wall and rubbed his forehead absently. He looked Athos over again as if to reconfirm he was still in one piece. "She burned the chateau?" he guessed.

Athos nodded tightly. "And tried to kill me," he added. _And I wanted her to_ , he thought distantly. If that fool boy hadn't returned, she might have even gone through with it. Then he wouldn't be here now, torn apart by regret and sorrow. What ever she had become, it was his fault. How could he ever be forgiven?

Treville looked at him sharply. "d'Artagnan stopped her," he deduced slowly. "Thank God for that."

Athos wasn't sure God had anything to do with it, not for someone like him. Aramis would probably disagree, but he had more faith than Athos ever would.

"She wants justice," Athos stated. His tone was dismissive, as if he almost didn't care whether she succeeded. Maybe he even deserved it.

"Revenge is not justice," Treville said firmly.

"It is when it's justified," Athos replied smoothly.

"And this is not!"

The fierce anger in the older man's voice surprised Athos. He raised his eyebrow, curious by the reaction. Treville stood with a look of fury in his eyes and would have made lesser men back down. As it was, Athos met his gaze squarely, but he was almost confused by the reaction. He couldn't fathom why the Captain would take this so personally.

"Letting her take your life serves no one." Treville dragged out each word very clearly. He step closer until he and Athos were nearly toe to toe. "Not you. Not her. And certainly not your fellow Musketeers. Can you honestly say they would not mourn you?"

Part of him did not believe the world would miss one such as him. Yet a growing part knew that Treville was right. Against his better judgement, he had let these men become a part of his life. Porthos, Aramis, even d'Artagnan were more family to him than his own had ever been. Could he honestly abandon them so easily? No. At least not without a fight.

"No," he admitted finally. His stance relaxed and his eyes betrayed his reluctant acceptance.

Treville looked relieved and stepped back with a gentle nod. "Good." He moved back towards his desk, looking serious. "The King may not always recognize your worth, but I do. I've already lost too many good men. I can't afford to lose any more. That includes you."

Athos gave a single nod of agreement. The loss of Cornet and his group had hit the contingent hard. Combined with that and the Cardinal's constant push for more power and authority, they needed all the Musketeers at their best. He couldn't promise that knowing his wife still still lived would not plague his every thought. He could only promise himself he would not let that knowledge lead to the downfall of his fellow Musketeers. Even if he had to fight to stay alive to do it.

Even so, he still felt the need for a strong drink. "If there's nothing else?" he ventured carefully.

Treville eyed him skeptically for a moment. "Just one thing. You should tell those two about this. You need someone to watch your back."

Athos raised an eyebrow at the request. "d'Artagnan knows," he reminded. He really did not feel the need to share with anyone else, even Porthos and Aramis. They had enough of their own demons without adding his own.

Treville shook his head. "d'Artagnan is only one man, and a young one at that. Think about it. They won't forgive you if you keep it from them."

Athos nodded thoughtfully. Treville was probably right. He should tell them, but not now. For now, Porthos had his own wounds to heal and not all of them physical. Athos decided he would bring it up later. After he'd had time alone to drown these cursed memories. It was definitely time for that drink now.

Looking satisfied, Treville sat back at his desk and returned to looking over reports. "Dismissed," he told his Musketeer curtly.

Relieved to be released, Athos turned and headed quickly for the door.

"And Athos." The swordsman paused, his hand already on the door handle. "I trust you'll be sober for muster tomorrow morning. Set a good example for the recruits."

Athos felt his mouth quirk into a small smile. He nodded his agreement and left. Sometimes Treville was far more perceptive than he expected. He would have to be more careful in the future not to let things slip. Still, at least he knew his secrets were safe with his Captain. Treville always looked after his own. It was just who he was.

" _Treville guided each of us as men...do you remember him as nothing more than your Captain?" - Athos, We are the Garrison_

M.M.M.M

 **Author's Note:** It took me a while to settle on what to do for Athos, but I enjoyed writing this scene so early in the series. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! You have all been a great inspiration to help me finish this little series! I hope you all enjoyed these little scenes as much as I enjoyed writing them.


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